Inexorable
by Tripoli
Summary: How can you escape something, when your fate is already sealed?
1. Chapter 1

Hey ya'll, how'd it going? New to this fandom (writing for it anyway, I grew up with these guys), and so I bring you this little brain child. Based on a poem I read years ago (it's quoted below) I already know how it's going to turn out, but I'm still up in the air about what happens in between. None the less, I hope you guys join me for the ride as I write this, and enjoy it!

Warnings: Rated for some nasty fighting scenes, violence, and language. Enjoy it

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything in the story, what a shame.

* * *

"_Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me." -_Emily Dickinson

Inexorable: Impossible to stop or prevent; unalterable; cruel

On an old and beaten dirt path traveled a wagon, pulled by two black Shires, moving swiftly despite the darkness and biting cold.

Perched atop the old creaking wagon was Death himself. He had no face, and what was assumed was his body was shrouded in a black robe. In his cold and bony hands, the only visible part of him, were the reins, even though the horses knew to follow the endless path for all eternity. A worn book sat in his lap, pages full of handwritten words and numbers. Or, more specifically, names and dates.

"Amelia Thompson. April 8th, 11:42." His voice, were a human ever to hear it, could best be described as nails screeching across a chalk board. But no human had seen him, because to them, he was just an enigma. Something only told in stories to scare others about dying and the afterlife. Picking up the pen from the seat of the wagon, Death wrote the name and date in the tidiest cursive. "Mother of three young daughters, carrying a fourth. How sad."

Again, as his job dictated, more names were written down on the paper. None of them he knew personally, but as he observed earth from his own world, he instantly knew who was to die, and when they would go. Upon just looking at a mortal, Death instantly got a flash of his or her entire life. He didn't, however, know how they die; nature took care of that end of the deal.

Flipping to a new page, Death poised his pen to write again. "Hamato Donatello. April 9th, 21:19." On the new page, the name was written, again in the neat hand. And like the people before, Death had seen visions of this mortal's life.

"Dead at only sixteen, leaving behind a family of four. Tragic, to leave behind such a life so young... This youth will surely be missed." Despite what human pop culture said about death and "Grim Reapers", Death had human feelings. It was impractical to show them while doing his job, as it would only make matters worse. So he hid them away, forcing himself to face his job with an impartial mind.

This one time, however, he could not help but stop writing the names and stare at the last written one on the paper. This human- no, Death had never seen a human look so.. reptilian before- had so much youth, intelligence, _potential, _that for the first time in thousands of years, Death regretted writing down in the book.

With a sigh, Death jerked on the reins, urging the horses to go faster down the path. "But that is the way of Death."

* * *

"Man, is it just me or are there more Purple Dragons here than ever tonight?" Raphael complained over the noise of fighting and weapons hitting together. "This was a bad idea, coming up to 49th Street. We always run into these guys here!"

It sure felt like it. For the past several weeks they hadn't encountered any thing out of the ordinary, much to Raphael's disappoint, aside from the occasional thug or criminal. Then, right when they were planning to head back home, hordes of Dragons popped out from seemingly nowhere, weapons drawn, and attacked them.

Catching a Dragon's wooden bat between his katanas, Leonardo flipped him onto the concrete. He fell unconscious as his head hit the ground, freeing Leonardo to fight his quickly surrounding friends. "We were just here last week! How was I supposed to know we would be ambushed!"

It had been Leonardo's idea, to patrol over near one of the worse areas of the city. Partly that was due to being bored from lack of activity and wanting something to do, but the leader was curious about what was going on. There was always _something_ happening with one of their enemies, be it petty crime from these guys, Karai and her Foot sneaking around, or even the couple times Bishop was up in New York planning something sneaky. Long story short, the turtles always had their hands full of something.

And then when things suddenly went quiet, Leonardo couldn't help but feel something was a little bit wrong. His younger brothers told him to relax, that he was over thinking things. Even Casey and April agreed with them, telling the eldest that they could use a break after saving the city and the world so many times. But he couldn't shake that _feeling_, the gut intuition that something was going to happen. Regardless, he pushed that feeling away, telling himself that maybe this time, Fate was smiling down on him and was granting them a reprieve for once.

_The old turtle luck, true to form._

Clearing out the circle of Dragons quickly approaching him, Leonardo risked a glance to see how the others were fairing. Raphael looked to have everything under control, taunting several Purple Dragons to his corner of the rooftop at a time before nailing them with his Sais and _did he just throw one off a building? _The two younger brothers took a more team approach, creating a system of throwing enemies to each other to take out.

There had to be at least dozens of Purple Dragons surrounding them. While that number wasn't anything new to them, they seemed...different, stronger this time. They were on the rooftops for one; usually Dragons only liked to terrorize the population at ground level.

"Everyone okay?" Leonardo called out to his brothers. It looked like they holding their own okay, but for every Dragon they took down, three seemed to take his place. _Where are they coming from? There's more here now than every one we fought combined!_

"Little busy here Leo!" Raphael was still in his corner, swimming in fallen Dragons and their blood. So much blood, it was a wonder the police or residents in the buildings around them didn't notice what was going on. "Geez, these guys don't know when to quit. Worse than the Foot!"

Another wave replaced the ones taken down, and once again Leonardo was left fending them off with his sword. Bodies were strewn about the rooftop, unconscious and possibly dead (he didn't have time to check if they were).

"Mikey! Don! Need any help?" Not like Leonardo could give any; the Purple Dragons were blocking off any possible route to the other side of the roof. The pair were rapidly being overtaken by the enemy, who had decided they looked easier to take out than the other two. If need be, however, he'd slash through all of them to get to one of his brothers.

"I think we've got it, Leo!" Donatello pushed a couple Dragons away with his weapon, crashing them into the ones trying to sneak up from behind. From across the rooftop, Leonardo could see his Bo staff starting to strain and bend from all the weight and heavy stress being put on the wood. It would only be a matter of time before it would snap, and his brother only had maybe a dozen Shuriken in his belt to fend them off in case of the occasional occurrence when it did break.

"Stop worrying about us all the time, dude. We got this!" Michelangelo was faring a little better than Donatello, but not by much. The two had long abandoned the buddy system, after the Purple Dragons finally figured out what they were doing and turn it against them. One of the orange-clad turtle's nunchucks were missing, presumably under one of the bodies lying on the ground.

The Dragons were quickly gaining the upper hand. Sheer number of fighters and the element of surprise beat having skill, and it would only be a matter of time before the four brothers would be taken out. Who knew what would happen after that. Maybe they would be killed, or maybe they would be sold to the Government or scientists and be dissected. Neither option sounded pleasant.

Swallowing his pride, Leonardo decided it was high time to haul shell out of there before things got really ugly. "Guys, finish it up and get out of here! There's too many of them, we can't take them all!" He ordered. Quickly he scanned the rooftop, looking for the easiest and quickest way down to the ground and to a manhole.

"You freaks giving up already?" A Dragon called from somewhere on the middle of the roof. "Thought you _ninja _fought to the end. Ya cowards!"

Leonardo ignored the taunt, but from the sound of the growl nearby, it was obvious Raphael didn't. "Really Leo? I'm just getting started!" Ha, easy to say as the only one who was actually getting anywhere. The body count at his feet was higher than the ones advancing, but Leonardo was sure more were on their way. A few more Purple Dragons tried to jump the eldest from the taller rooftop behind him, but the noise they made instantly gave them away. With a few well placed stabs, they were clutching their stomachs and kneeling on the already fallen.

At least Donatello and Michelangelo understood the command, and were now trying to find a way through the makeshift human blockade. They were the closest to what Leonardo deemed the safest exit, but were also surrounded by the most enemies. And worse, it looked like the Purple Dragons caught on to what they were doing, and were starting to block it off.

"Man, these guys never give up, do they?" Michelangelo complained. "You guys recruiting half of New York or something?" With his remaining chuck, the youngest brother, knocked the metal pipe out of one Dragon's hand. "Why would anyone wanna join you anyway? You have ugly hair, and smell funny."

_Don't taunt them Mikey... _Sure enough, as Leonardo predicted, the disarmed Dragon and his nearby friends were pissed. Whatever they were currently doing was stopped so they could swarm him, and consequently, Donatello. _Shit. What else can go wrong today?_

"Mike, Don! Hold on, I'll be right there!" With a burst of renewed determination and strength, Leonardo knocked several thugs onto the ground, trying to make a way to his youngest brothers as fast as possible.

"Good going Mikey, now look what you did," Donatello groaned. Holding up his slightly bending Bo staff, the purple-clad turtle started pushing away Dragons as quickly as they were replaced. He and Michelangelo were shell to shell, fending off the thugs who now only saw red. No longer were they trying to take them out, they were barely able to keep the gap between their enemies from getting any smaller.

"Hey, I was being nice!" Michelangelo protested. "Think of the things I could've said!"

"Not _helping, _Mikey."

Suddenly, cold realization clenched in his gut as he watched his brothers and struggled with his own circle of thugs. _The lack of activity from the enemy, even here, the sudden attack, the jump in skill by the Purple Dragons, when they had always been such novice fighters_... All of this was done on purpose. The Dragons had purposely given then a false sense of security, and then hit them when they least expected it.

_Why didn't I see this before? It's so obvious! _And here he was, leading his family into a possible life or death situation. _Some leader I am..._Their Sensei had taught him to always be on his toes, be aware of his enemies and what was going on around him at all times, and he messed up big time. Leonardo couldn't believe that for a second he had actually believed they had caught a break for once, that something would actually go right in their lives. Now here he was, so incredibly stupid for having fallen for such a painfully obvious trick.

"Uhh, remember earlier when I said I got this?" Michelangelo squeaked, ducking his head away from a swinging bat. "Yeah, I don't really have this anymore! Leo! Raphie! We've got trouble!"

Not caring if they ended up dead or not, Leonardo started swinging his katanas at the Purple Dragons, slashing through bodies and moving them out of the way. His brothers needed help, it was his own fault for leading them into all this in the first place, and damn if he wasn't going to get them out.

"Mikey! Hold on bro, I'm comin'!" Leonardo almost breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Raphael's voice. He was getting closer, possibly before he himself could reach the younger ones, and could help fend the thugs off. All they had to do was regroup and get the Hell outta Dodge. Then catch up when their hearts finally dropped down from their throats and beating ninety miles an hour.

"You mutant freaks, always stickin' yer noses where they don't belong and fuckin' things up. 'Bout time you freaks get what you deserve!"

A strangled cry of pain and surprise sounded from somewhere in front of him, and Leonardo frantically tried to see past the waves of Purple Dragons crowding in front of him. The sound was frighteningly familiar, coming from one of his own brothers_, _but he couldn't pick out which one it was. _Shit, which one is it? _Another thing to add to the list of why he was such a failure as a leader (not to mention a brother): Not even being able to tell which brother was which by the sound of his voice. And this time, a voice that sounded like he was in a lot of trouble._ "_Guys! Raph! Mikey! Donnie! Where are you, are you guys alright?" No response. Leonardo started to panic, slashing at random thugs for no other reason than just to quell the rising fear. "_Guys!"_

"I'm -Ugh!- Right here!" Raphael answered from nearby. Sure enough, within seconds, the second oldest appeared next to him, clutching his bloody Sais. More blood was running on his body, but he doubted it belonged to his brother. There were no visible wounds that he could see, and Leonardo was glad at least one of them got out unscathed so far."What's go-"

"Leo! Raphie!" The panicked shout instantly caused the eldest two to turn their heads towards the direction of the noise. Michelangelo. At least one of them was still alive, at least. Leonardo strained to hear anything from Donatello. "Guys, where are you? We need help right_ now!_"

The tone, so rarely used in the normally carefree turtle, immediately spurred them into action. Their brothers needed help, and damn it if they weren't going to give it or die trying. _Don't think about that, _Leonardo chastised himself, _with your luck, that'll just make it happen. _The Purple Dragons, having noticed all the commotion going on around them, formed a barrier between the two groups.

"Do you _really _wanna start this shit tonight?" Raphael threatened, raising his Sais in warning. "If ya want, I can make it the last thing you'll eva do."

The Dragons only laughed at him. "Aww, lookit the little mutant turtle freak, ordering us around. What ya gonna do ta us, yer only five feet tall!"

"Seriously, where are you guys!" Michelangelo called from over the taunts. Leonardo risked a quick glance in that direction, hoping to see a flash of green, purple, or orange that wasn't hideously dyed hair. Nope, nothing but a bunch of Purple Dragons looking smug.

"Hold on Mikey, we'll be right there!" Raphael yelled back, before taking a few steps towards the Dragons in front of them. "Listen, I've got a couple bros that you're blockin' us from. Now, I suggest that either you move outta the way, or I'll make you do it for me."

"Oh ho ho, turtle boy here is _threatening _us, guys." The thug directly in front of them mocked a fearful expression. "Oh no, whatever will we- _AAUGH!"_ He was instantly silenced by a swift punch to the jaw, followed by a rough pick up and shove into the Dragons behind him. After catching the others by surprise, Leonardo and Raphael charged through, taking out as many thugs and making a path before they realized what was going on.

_Please be okay, please be okay. _All Leonardo could think about was what happened to Michelangelo and Donatello. What was Michelangelo freaking out about? Who had cried out earlier? Were they okay? Why hadn't Donatello said anything? The eldest continued to stab body parts, no longer caring about sparing lives. The Purple Dragons had crossed that line a while back.

Pushing back the last few thugs with his katanas, Leonardo finally reached a break in the crowd. He could see Michelangelo hovering over something crouched on the ground, twirling his nunchuck at anyone nearby, and occasionally throwing out a shuriken from their small reserve when a Dragon got too close. _Oh no..._

"Mikey!" he cried, briefly checking around him before kneeling down next to his little brother. Propped up against his side was Donatello, clutching at his abdomen as he moaned quietly. Even in the limited light, Leonardo could see dark liquid oozing out from underneath his hand, already running down to his legs and the ground. "Michelangelo, what happened? Is Donnie okay?"

A gasp was heard from above; Raphael was covering for them from the Purple Dragons, but was looking their way with wide eyes. "What the hell happened to Don? He alright?"

"I dunno what happened!" Michelangelo defended, as if it was his own fault whatever this was had happened. "One minute we were beating up badies, and the next thing I know I hear him yell and fall to the ground. I think one of them stabbed him, the knife is over there." Following his brother's pointed finger, Leonardo spotted the weapon nearby. He grabbed it, noting with dismay the blood and bits of what looked like Donatello's plastron stuck to it.

Throwing it back where he found it, the eldest turned to his maimed brother. "Hey Donnie, you okay?" He grabbed him by the shell, easing him off Michelangelo and closer towards him to better see the injury. Donatello whimpered in pain from being moved, but Leonardo swallowed the guilt and settled him against his chest. "Hey bro, how are you feeling? Talk to me, bud."

"Damn it Leo we don't have _time_," Raphael snapped, stabbing a couple approaching Purple Dragons in the stomach. Most of them backed off, but the couple who kept going were just met with another Sai. "Heh, that's what you get. Leo, _c'mon_, let's get outta here and look at him later! I can't hold them off all day!"

"We're not leaving until I'm sure Don is safe to move!" Leonardo responded. He took the grunt in reply as an affirmative enough answer. Turning back to Donatello, the blue-clad turtle gently pulled the hand covering the wound away to judge how it looked. _Oh shit... _He held back a wince, trying not to make the others worry any more than they already were. Donatello probably knew how bad it was, but Michelangelo stilled looked hopeful that big brother could fix it. Whoever had stabbed him was strong, as he not only managed to get the knife through the tough plating of his plastron, but _twisted _it around before pulling it back out.

"He surprised me," came the weak reply from Donatello. "Mikey and I didn't even see him approach. Next thing I know, he was right there in front of me, and then stabbed me with the knife. I didn't even see it until it was too late. Couldn't get away in time."

"It's okay Don, no one knew," Leonardo reassured him, picking away the couple bits of bloody plastron that had broken off. Untying his mask, the eldest pressed it against the wound as hard as he dared without hurting risk of hurting him. It was difficult with their plastrons; they didn't get injuries there often due to the tough protective layering, but treating them was difficult. It didn't grow back very well, sometimes not even at all, and it could sometimes be inflexible and hard to stick back together. Donatello's injury was on one of his middle plates, slightly to the right from the mid-line. He gritted his teeth in pain from the pressure to the wound. "We're going to get you home soon, don't worry."

He hoped so, anyway. The amount of Purple Dragons were thinning out, but from the sound of them and Raphael fighting, they were getting more vicious. Leonardo wanted to move Donatello out as fast as possible, but he didn't want to do it when there was still risk of being chased.

There was also the possibility of Donatello dying, but he didn't want to think about that. While the stab wound didn't look that bad from appearance, he didn't know what lay underneath it. If the knife had cut into a vital organ, then he didn't have much time left.

Raphael seemed to have read his mind. "Leo, what the hell are you waiting for? I can hold 'em off, you and Mikey get Don back to the lair! I'll be there soon!"

Leave a brother alone with these guys? Leonardo couldn't do it. The decision to separate and take out the Purple Dragons was what got them into this situation in the first place. "Raph, just forget about it! We'll deal with these guys another day. Let's just go back and get Donnie some help."

At the mention of their injured brother, Raphael moved closer towards the three, defending him and his brothers instead of actively looking to fight. "We gonna go down the fire escape?" The one good thing that had happened so far that night. Ten feet or so away from where they had been cornered were the stairs, which led straight to a manhole cover. It was a little further going that way than through the ones they usually took, but Leonardo would rather walk the distance than chance going through the streets and alleys topside.

"It's the only way down that doesn't require jumping or climbing down anything. We have to," Leonardo answered. Grabbing Donatello's hand, he pressed it against the bandana covering his abdomen. "Mikey and I are going to move you down the stairs, okay? We'll be careful." Turning to the side, he noticed the red-clad turtle in the middle of holding two bats away from his head with his own weapons. "Raph, watch our backs will ya?"

"No prob!" He called back, before a metal pipe connected with a Sai, letting out a loud _clang _as metal met metal. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time than run around the city like ya own it?"

"You scum! If it weren't fer you freaks, we'd be king of this area by now!" One of the taller ones complained. "But you always gotta get in the middle of everything and fuck it up like you're all that. No one wants to be around you! Go back to the sewers where you belong and stay there, turtles!"

"Hey, you be- Leo! _LOOK OU-"_

_**BANG!**_

All of a sudden everything around them went silent. The four turtles and dozens of Purple Dragons froze in the middle of whatever they were doing. _A gun? One of them had a gun? _Leonardo's eyes darted across the rooftop, looking for the culprit. _But that's impossible, they've never used a gun while fighting _before. As quickly as it stopped, there was a flurry of activity as everyone jumped into action. Raphael lashed out, Sais pointed up as he jabbed at whoever was closest. Getting over the shock of the loud noise, Leonardo checked on the brother in his arms.

"Don? _DON_!" If the oldest wasn't worried before, he sure was now. A few inches away from the original stab wound was a much smaller, rounder hole, blood rushing out of it. Someone had shot him in the chest. Raw panic settled in his heart, until he saw the ragged rise and fall of his chest proving he was at least still alive. _Great, just what we need... _Briefly he checked behind at Donatello's back, seeing no exit hole from the bullet. When (because there would be no 'if' about it) they got back to the lair, they'd have to remove it somehow.

"Is Donnie okay?" Michelangelo, forgotten in the whole fiasco, moved forward for attention and to check on Donatello. "One of them just pulled out a gun and shot him! I didn't even know any of them had one, or a knife!"

"It's okay, Mikey, none of knew they were carrying them. It's no one's fault." Deep down, Leonardo knew that was a lie. He blamed himself for not noticing what those thugs were carrying, to what was happening on Michelangelo and Donatello's side of the fight. If he had been a good leader and paid attention to everything that was going on, he would've noticed the weapons long before they'd be used. "Here, give me your bandana. I need to block this wound too."

The orange fabric was placed in his hand, and Leonardo made quick work to staunch the blood flow of the second injury. He gestured to Michelangelo to put pressure on that one, wanting one hand free in case he needed to get to his katanas. By then, his own blue bandana had been soaked and was past being useful, so the eldest pulled off his wrist bands and placed them on top. The small pieces of cloth wouldn't do much, but it was better than nothing. It should hopefully hold them until they get down underground.

_If Raph doesn't hurry up already..._

"We're pulling out!" Leonardo commanded. Donatello whimpered from the loud noise next to his ear, causing the older turtle to cover it up with his free hand. The second oldest didn't hear (or more likely, ignored him), and continued to fight the remaining Purple Dragons. _Where had they all gone? Just a few seconds ago there were at least thirty!_ "_RAPH!_ Let's go, we're moving!"

With one last stab in the heart to a Purple Dragon for good measure, Raphael crouched down next to the others, looking at Donatello with concerned eyes. "Need help getting him down?"

"Nah, Mikey and I have that covered. One of you give me your belt." Undoing his own, he tied that and the one Raphael handed him, wrapping them around their injured brother's torso to hold one of the makeshift bandages tight against the wound. He gestured for Michelangelo to do the same, while untying Donatello's, and knotted it against the second hole. "We can't hold them to the wounds and carry Don at the same time."

Pulling Donatello up into his arms, the blue-masked turtle lifted him off the ground, careful not to jar his injuries. His younger brother moaned in protest from being moved, weakly grasping his oldest brother's arm. "Mikey, get his other side, will you?" Leonardo nodded to the mentioned turtle, who hastily grabbed Donatello's legs. "Donnie, you still with us?"

His eyes, closed for the majority of the time since being shot, fluttered open. "Hmm? Leo?" He looked unfocused, unaware of what was going on. That wasn't a good sign. "Mikey n' Raphie?"

"Hey, long time no see," Michelangelo joked, but he looked as worried as Leonardo felt. Donatello glanced down towards the sound of his voice, before looking back up to his eldest brother.

Raphael appeared in his line of vision, giving him an affection rub on the head. "Yeah, right here bro. Even pain in the ass little brothers won't make me leave." Donatello gave him a small smile, which turned into a grimace when Leonardo accidentally pulled on one of the belts.

"Guys, we don't have time for this, remember?" Leonardo reminded. The Purple Dragons had mysteriously disappeared, but he would worry about that another time. For now, there were more pressing matters to take care of. "Mikey, you go first. Go down the steps _carefully._"

"Geez Leo, I'm careful." Raphael assisted on getting them down the steps of the fire escape (thank God the building was only two stories tall), going just slow enough to keep Donatello still as possible. They still hit small bumps and ran into the railing several times, causing the second youngest to emit small moans of discomfort throughout the short journey down the stairs. During that entire time, Leonardo mumbled words of reassurance and comfort in his brother's ear, trying to get him to stay awake as long as possible.

The others were quiet going down the building, focusing on getting the shell outta there before they ran into anything else that wanted to cause trouble.

"Don't worry Donnie, we'll get ya back home and patched up before you even know it!" Michelangelo promised. "Mommy Leo's gonna make you stay in bed for a month, but you'll end up loving it, I guarantee it! I know I would. Leo and Raph will be there to wait on ya hand and foot, and Casey and April will probably pick up anything you want from the store once they get back." The pair had chose the wrong time to go on vacation. "I'll even cook anything you ask! Just say the word, and chef Michelangelo will whip it up in a flash!"

"Okay Mikey, I think we get it by now," Raphael griped. "Don also has to put up with your mouth, remember? And so do we, so shaddup."

The jokes and playful bickering helped alleviate the critical mood, at least for a few moments. Finally reaching the ground, Leonardo scouted out the manhole cover hidden in the shadows. "There." He nodded to the left. Raphael, the only one not holding onto Donatello, went over to it and pulled off the cover.

"How do we get him down there?" Michelangelo leaned over the hole once he and Leonardo managed to get over there, peering down into it. Faint light from the tunnel below shone though, the bottom barely visible. It was easily a twenty feet drop from the surface.

"Here, put him on my back." Turning around, Raphael stretched out his arms to the sides. "I can carry him easy."

Leonardo looked at him, hesitating about making a decision. It was certainly faster and safer than passing him down to a brother waiting below. "Do you think you'll be able to fit with him on your back?"

Raphael shrugged, still facing forward."Shouldn't be a problem. Wouldn't be the first time one of us had to do it." He rolled his shoulders back with impatience. "Just do it Leo, we don't have all day. Donnie needs to get home, and fast."

Leonardo relented with a sigh. "Fine, just be careful with him. Don't let him fall or get hurt." With that, he maneuvered Donatello on to his immediate older brother's back, making sure the bandages were secured tight and wouldn't fall off. Raphael hooked his arms under Donatello's knees.

"Hey Donnie, I need ya to hold on to me. Think ya can do that, Bro?" Donatello 'hmmed' in reply, before weakly wrapping his arms around Raphael's neck and resting his head against the back of his brother's. Leonardo motioned for them to go first down the manhole, looking out in case someone tried to jump them again.

Michelangelo watched the middle brothers slowly descend into the sewers. It was a tight fit with both of them, with only an inch between the wall and Donatello's shell. Still, it was enough for them to get down, get home, and get Donatello _help. _"Hey Leo, d'ya think Donnie's gonna be okay?"

It was hard to be sure anymore. Judging from the time on his watch, it had been more than ten minutes since Donatello had been shot to now. Blood was still oozing from both wounds, and hadn't shown any signs of even slowing down. Worst of all, his brother seemed almost incoherent and not all there, like he was suffering from the effects of blood loss. He would be lucky if he made it back to the lair conscious, let alone alive. "Yeah Mikey, I'm sure he'll be fine," Leonardo lied. He couldn't tell his youngest brother the possible outcomes. Not yet anyway.

"You two gonna stay there all night or somethin'?" Raphael called from the bottom. Leonardo motioned for Michelangelo to go down first. Pulling the manhole cover towards him, the eldest covered the hole up above him, followed his brother down the ladder, and touched down in an inch of runoff water from the last storm.

Leonardo gazed down the long tunnel with uncertain eyes. Estimating from the somewhat familiar location, it was at least a half mile from the lair. Normally that was nothing to four turtles who were incredibly fit, but right now they were carrying one of their own who didn't have that kind of time. Donatello was losing blood, and fast.

* * *

Hahaha, you like? Sorry this chapter is lacking is Raph and Mikey interaction and characterization. That will happen in future chapters, trust me! It might be a little slow going, but that's what they feel like is happening. Hence, the title.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's chapter two for ya. Sorry it took so long, I was so paranoid about making it right that I rewrote it several different times. I hope this is good enough for you, my lovelys.

Also, I don't know if I said it before, but this takes places in the 2k3 universe for the most part. It probably doesn't matter much, but there are a couple key points that are found only in that verse that are in this story.

And finally, many thanks to Dondena for beta reading this. You're awesome!

* * *

The feeling of Donatello breathing against Raphael's shell was uncomfortable. It wasn't the fact he had to carry his brother; with lives like theirs, he had to carry one of them home almost once a month. No, it was the way his chest jutted out every time he took in a breath, as if it were painful to do something so simple, yet essential to live. It was the sound of air wheezing out of his mouth next to his ear that was way too loud to be normal.

_Of course he's in pain, stupid,_ Raphael cursed himself. _He got hit in the chest two times._

He was sure his own shell was splattered with blood as well; it was already starting to crust on his shoulder where Donatello had managed to get some there, leaving him itchy.

"So Leo, what's the big plan now?" He couldn't help but bring up. Of course he knew that it wasn't helping any, but the whole situation was just pissing him off so much he had to do _something._ "It's a half mile walk home. With Don, its gonna take half n' hour at least."

Leonardo suddenly broke his stare from the tunnel at the sound of his voice. "We have no other choice. We'll have to walk back. Donnie took out the hidden Slider he kept nearby here after rats chewed the wires."

_Just great... _This night was really shaping up to be a shitty one. The eldest looked just as frayed as he felt. The recent battle, Donatello's injuries, and having to come up with a plan to deal with it all- and fast- was starting to eat at all of them. Even Michelangelo, who for once decided to stay quiet. He couldn't help but stare at his immediate older brother, visibly shaken.

They could've called their father to bring up the Sewer Slider, but by the time he figured out how to start the damn thing, they could've done laps around the whole sewer network. If he managed to actually answer the shell cell without any problems, that is. Casey and April were unfortunately out of the question as well, and Raphael didn't want to get Angel involved with their problems, given how young she was.

"Guess we better start walkin' then," he grumbled. All he wanted to do was get home, make sure Donatello was safe, and sleep for about a week. "Here, get Donnie off my back. Ita be easier for him if we both carry him."

Reaching forward, Leonardo gently pulled Donatello's arms from around Raphael's neck, easing his upper body into his own. The injured turtle let out a tiny moan, prompting Michelangelo to step forward and rub a hand up and down his arm. Raphael turned around so he could more easily carry his legs.

"Hey Donnie, ya still with us, bro?" Michelangelo, the only one not carrying him, hovered nearby.

"Huh? Uh... y-yeah... 'M here," he mumbled. "Hurts though." Shakily, he raised a hand to his chest, wincing when his fingers brushed against one of the bandages. Pulling the hand away, the youngest settled both of his arms lower on his abdomen, far away from his injuries. "Think... think I hit some'thn."

The pain and fear on his eyes was so evident, Leonardo was almost shocked to see it so clearly expressed. Usually the genius' emotions and thoughts were so high level and quick to process that none of them could even understand what was going on in his head.

"Don, we need you to stay awake as long as possible. Think you can do that for us, bud?" Leonardo was leaning over, trying to get Donatello to make eye contact with him. Instead, his head lolled back against his eldest brother's plastron, looking at the brick wall of the tunnel with unfocused eyes.

"Yeah... 'kay."

Donatello's inability to form a complete sentence was troubling. Usually, he was so sure about what he was talking about, especially if it had anything to do with technology. Raphael silently swore to himself never to tune his brother out when he talked about something 'geeky' when he got better.

"Let's go. We've been standing around here too long, we have to get back," Leonardo ordered. And so they began the long trek back home.

He tried not to think about the blood dripping into the small stream beneath them, turning the water reddish-pink. Already, the bandanas and wrist bands were soaked, but they didn't have time to stop and add more. For now, they would just have to hope that it was enough and would last them until actual bandages could be used.

"Don didn't bring his bag with him this time," Raphael stated.

That disgusting thing that he carried around so much had begun to smell; he had been secretly glad that Leonardo told him he couldn't take it with him on patrol. Until now, that is. Donatello was always so insistent to carry around everything small enough to fit in it, including a plethora of first aid supplies for any potential injury, which they desperately needed.

"Afraid not. I... I wanted Don to be focused instead of looking for things to put in it. I didn't think this would happen." Leonardo shook his head. His eyes clouded over with even more guilt.

_Just anotha thing to add to Leo's long list of fails he keeps. Surprised he doesn't have them written down somewhere__, _Raph thought to himself.

"Can it Leo, you couldn't of known this was gonna happen. Hell, even Master Splinter said nothing will probably happen tonight. So shaddup, 'cause frankly I'm tired of your self pity shit." Raph said.

"Stop... fightin'," a voice sounded from below, and Raphael looked down to see Donatello attempting a glare. Immediately, it changed to a grimace when he started coughing, causing blood to bubble out of the corner of his mouth. Not good, not good at all. Raphael knew enough from the basic first aid training April and Splinter had given them, that coughing up blood meant internal bleeding, which always meant something serious.

Pulling off one of his wristbands, Michelangelo wiped away the blood running down his face. Donatello let out a few gasping, noisy breaths, before returning to the quickened pace that had become so disturbingly normal to them ever since he first got hurt.

"Hey, just relax, okay, bro?" Leonardo soothed in a soft voice. Despite how much of a dick the eldest could be sometimes, especially when it came to training, Raphael knew he could be a damn good older brother. "Save your strength. We'll be home soon before you know it. Think you can wait a bit longer until then?"

Donatello nodded once, swallowing thickly, his face slick with sweat from the effort of merely coughing. Raphael wished to stop and see how his brother was holding up, but he knew they couldn't afford to lose any more time.

At least they were far enough through the sewer that they couldn't see where they had come down from anymore. Raphael figured they had about twenty minutes to go, but what did he know. He was such a terrible judge of time; an unfortunate trait he seemed to share with his younger brothers. The lair could be two hours away with his luck. And so he continued to press forward, the injured brother in his arms motivation to keep him going. He pushed down the feelings of fear and dread that were quickly rising.

"Mikey, I need you to do something," Leonardo ordered, breaking the silence.

Michelangelo, who had stayed relatively quiet and providing physical comforts to Donatello that the older two couldn't, suddenly perked up. He looked so eager, wanting to do anything other than watch their brother be in so much pain. "I need you to run ahead and tell Master Splinter what happened. Tell him Don's hurt, and to get everything we need to help him. Can you do that?"

"Of course, no prob." When Leonardo nodded to him to go, Michelangelo took off faster than Raphael had probably ever seen him.

* * *

He should've been so happy, that Leonardo, of all people, gave him such an important job to do. Instead, all Michelangelo could focus on was wanting to stay behind with his older brothers. Part of him was almost glad to get away from them, to not have to see Donatello suffer so much. But guilt, and the instinctual sense of being a brother quickly pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came, focusing on instead getting help.

Master Splinter would know what to do. Ever since they were babies, their father patched up every scrape they got while training or roughhousing. Granted, they didn't get seriously injured very often, the last time being Leonardo when he ran into the Foot by himself, but they pulled through in the end. Splinter and his brothers always knew what to do. They would help Donatello.

Michelangelo was running so fast he almost missed the tunnel that led to the lair. This was good, he was almost home, almost to Splinter! Never before had he been so grateful of his father's insistence on strict training. Without it, he wouldn't have been able to sprint that fast for ten minutes, no stopping.

"Master Splinter! Master Splinter!" He started yelling as soon as the hidden door to the lair was in sight. He knew for a fact the rat would still be up, no doubt waiting for the return of his sons. "Master Splinter!"

Fumbling with the pipes on the door, it took several tries for Michelangelo to get the right combination for them to open. The fifth time he finally got it, bursting through the door and into his home.

Splinter, sitting on the couch watching what looked like the news, jumped at the sound of the door being slammed open. "Master Splinter! Sensei, where are you?!"

"Michelangelo, what is wrong?" His eyes fell to the blood splattered across his arms and plastron. The rat was on his feet in a flash, scanning over his son's body for any sign of injury "My son, what happened tonight? Where are your brothers, are they alright? Are you?"

"It's not me, it's Donnie!" The turtle cried. So much was swimming around in his head, it was hard to form a sentence. "He's hurt, we... Topside, we ran into Purple Dragons and... Raph n' Leo told me... Don needs help!"

Splinter placed his hands on the youngest turtle's shoulders, trying to stop his hyperventilation. "Calm down, Michelangelo. Please, tell me what happened."

And so he explained everything from the past hour: Heading to 49thStreet for the night's patrol, running into 'a bajillion' Purple Dragons, the horrible fight, Donatello getting stabbed then shot, ending with Leonardo sending him ahead to warn their father. Said rat listened intently to his son as he told his story. Michelangelo was almost in tears at the end; he hated watching his brothers suffer even a little bit, and being separated from them when they were.

"He was shot? Do you know if the bullet is still inside?" Splinter asked. Was it? Michelangelo hadn't been paying attention at the time. He was too busy focusing on the fact that one of them had a gun to notice him actually using it.

"I... I dunno, I didn't check."

"I see. If that is the case, they we must remove the bullet somehow. I can only hope it did not damage anything important. But Michelangelo... Are Donatello's injuries serious?" His father questioned.

Looking away, the turtle took in a few deep breath to calm himself. While he didn't know much about first aid, Michelangelo knew enough to know that it was bad. He nodded once, unable to physically say it aloud. Splinter's ears lowered against his head.

Turning to the right, the rat's gaze fell onto Donatello's lab. It was an "organized chaos" as the genius liked to call it, with papers scattered everywhere, open and heavily marked books on chairs stolen from the kitchen for extra surface area, and appliances all at different stages of repair. "If that is the case, then we must work fast. Bring me the spare pillows, blankets, and first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet."

Michelangelo hurried across the lair to the bathroom to do as his father asked. Anything except stand around and think about how Donatello was doing right now. He threw open the door to the wooden cabinet built into the wall, pulling down every blanket and pillow that could fit into his arms. A few of their rattier towels made it to the pile as well in case they needed some of them. The first aid kit, easily a couple pounds because of Leonardo and Donatello's insistence of keeping a stocked supply, rested on top of the pile in his arms.

When he got back, he found Donatello's low table dragged out from inside his lab, belongings pushed off and probably somewhere still inside the sub car. A chair was next to it, various tools from his immediate older brother's toolbox laid out on the seat. Michelangelo had seen Donatello, and sometimes Raphael use them countless times, but he couldn't remember the names of them.

"I practice Ninjitsu, not medicine. Bullet removal is something I do not know how to do. I am afraid we will have to make do with what we can," Splinter explained when he saw his son eyeing the tools set out. The rat was currently in the middle of disinfecting one of them with the rubbing alcohol Donatello kept in his lab. "Please, put everything on the floor for now." The pile of supplies reached up passed his knees. "Perhaps if Mr. Jones or Miss O'Neil were here, they would be able to assist us."

"I can try calling them if you want," Michelangelo offered.

Splinter gave a small, crooked smile. "If you wish, although I do not know if they would be able to help. They are in another state, if I recall."

"Well still, they might be able to tell us what to do," the turtle insisted. "April had to get her appendix thingy taken out a couple years ago, she might know how to take a bullet out." Without waiting for an answer, Michelangelo pulled his shell-cell out from his belt and speed-dialed April's number.

Master Splinter watched his son for a second, before returning to sterilizing the tools waiting on the chair. His ears twitched at the noise of the phone snapping shut. "Did she not answer?"

"Nah, went straight to voice mail." The orange-clad turtle paused, watching his father work, before asking, "Uh, need some help with that, Sensei?"

"I am almost finished with this, but if you could, put the pillows and blankets on the table," Splinter suggested, gesturing to the couple foot high pile next to Michelangelo. "If Donatello is as injured as you say, then I do not want to risk moving him upstairs to Leonardo's room."

The eldest brother's room was always the go-to when one of them was hurt or sick. His was the only one that had an actual bed at ground level. "The couch is impractical, so we will have to make a bed instead."

Michelangelo pulled several of the thicker blankets out, laying them on top of the table. A wooden surface was too hard to lay on, the youngest surmised, and Donatello deserved to be as comfortable as possible. Well, as comfortable as one could be while injured, anyway. The rest of the blankets would be used to keep his brother warm; it was still early April and chilly in New York City, especially in the sewers.

Finally, the pillows were placed at the end, fluffed up and waiting to be used.

"Master Splinter, does this look okay?" Mikey asked.

His father only glanced up at Michelangelo's handiwork, too busy sorting through the first aid kit. "Thank you, Michelangelo. Could you help me sort through this, please?"

Their first aid kit was like a miniature drug store in a box. Inside it were bandages, gauze, syringes, Tylenol, hydrogen peroxide, scissors, and equipment to set up an IV (no one trusted Michelangelo to handle that). There were even a couple bottles of morphine Donatello found at a junkyard nearby a hospital that had accidentally been thrown out, but they were reserved for emergencies. Together, they pulled out the things they were sure they would need and set them on the chair, ready to be used.

Splinter opened his mouth to say something, before his ears suddenly perked up and turned his head towards the door Michelangelo had forgotten to close. "I hear your brothers. They are close."

_Just in time..._

* * *

By the time the two eldest brothers made it home, Donatello had fallen unconscious. While Raphael voiced his worry about it, Leonardo couldn't help but feel glad. His brother was in pain, and a lot of it, and it hurt him to have to watch. He had also coughed up blood three mores times after Michelangelo left, each occurrence more strenuous and bloody.

That just made Leonardo worry more; if Donatello wasn't awake to cough it up, then the blood would just pool in his lungs and cause more problems.

Leonardo didn't even glance up from his brother's bloody face to see what was going on in the lair. "Master Splinter! Don, he's hurt!"

"Michelangelo already explained everything," Splinter reassured.

Finally, the eldest looked up, seeing everything already set up. Several of Donatello's things from the lab were cast aside in the haste, and Leonardo hoped his little brother wouldn't be too upset that his stuff was messed with.

His gaze fell to the makeshift bed in front of Donatello's lab. If their father went to all that trouble of making one, then he had to be worried. He nodded to Raphael to move their brother onto the table, which was thankfully only a couple inches higher than his leg. They wouldn't have to lift him and potentially aggravate his injuries.

"I'm sorry, Sensei, I wasn't watching Don and some-"

"Now is not the time, Leonardo," his father cut in. "You may explain to me later. Right now, Donatello needs help."

"Of course." He maneuvered Donatello onto the table, bunching up the blankets that lay underneath him around his sides to keep him warm. Shortly before falling unconscious, the second youngest had begun to shiver, and had only gotten worse since then. Raphael reached for one of the extra blankets on the floor and draped it across his legs, which were starting to feel cold.

For a few moments. Leonardo stood next to Donatello, wiping away the thin sheet of sweat that was forming on his face and neck with one of the towels. He wondered why he could be sweating and cold at the same time, but figured that was probably due to the blood loss.

Behind him, Splinter and Raphael spoke in low voices, most likely about what had happened or what to do to help Donatello. Raphael seemed to be more together than Leonardo felt, which was probably why their father was talking to his brother instead of him. Grabbing one of the ripped and stained towels, he pressed them against his brother's wounds, watching the faded beige slowly turn red.

"You guys got here pretty fast," Michelangelo commented. He stood on the other side of the table, unable to take his hands off of his immediate older brother. "I thought you would be another five or ten minutes."

"We had to rush, we... Don just kept getting worse, and Raph insisted we hurry up. And then once he fainted, we figured he couldn't feel as much pain and we practically ran home. Rather have him alive than dead because we took too long getting home."

Behind him, Splinter's news program continued to play, forgotten in the flurry of activity to save Donatello. _"And in other news. Early today, thirty-two year old Amelia Thompson was found dead in her apartment. It was estimated she died around noon, while her husband and three children were out of the home. Police are suspecting monoxide poisoning, and are currently looking for a possible suspect in the case."_

* * *

And there's chapter. I would like to know your thoughts about how in character you think they are. I used a couple things they say in the new toon that they say in here (for example, Leo actually does call Don 'bud'), but I want to know what you all think!


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